


Unpublished Draft

by Deadriot



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadriot/pseuds/Deadriot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They infiltrate a murderous gang to investigate a series of murders. Things go wrong and John blogs about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. It's a short story. I'll update Tuesdays. I know it's more like the books than BBC John's personal blog.

**The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**

 

 **Title:** _Entry title_

 

It was most definitely one of our hardest cases. Sherlock had hit a dead end, Lestrade was getting anxious, NSY was demanding the case to be done, and I was in the middle of everything trying not to go mad.

At the beginning it looked like what would be a straight-forward case. A gang meddling with the wrong people and someone ends dead. There was no apparent need to call Sherlock, except that every day for the next week a corpse would be found, and each one was a member of said gang. So, it was by the end of the week, with an alarmingly increasing body count, Lestrade payed us a visit. No need to mention that Sherlock was more than excited with the whole situation. 7 murders and no traceable lead.

We were allowed into the last crime scene, and later on to the bodies at the morgue. They were all murdered in the same way, and all targets were the lower ranks. All young and naïve individuals who were, perhaps, looking for something exciting to do, or a fast way to make money. I could practically see the connections being made within Sherlock's brain.

“Would you say there are self defence wounds?” Said he after a moment. He has gone very still and was playing with an idea in his mind.

“There are no apparent signs of a fight or struggle.” I said more to myself, although by now I should know better. He heard me and made the face that said that _we_ knew what was going on, when in reality it was only _him_. “So they knew the other person enough for them to get close and throw a well placed stab.”

“And what can be deduced out of that?”

“Stop it Sherlock. There's no need to look like a smug cat that just caught a bird.”

“I don't do that!” He answered affronted. I was grateful that Lestrade chose that moment to make himself present.

“Yes, you do.” Remarked him with a grin. “So, I know that you have some plan being formed in that big brain of yours. Care to share? I've given you enough time.”

They both looked exasperated by the other. Sherlock regarding Lestrade too stupid to be a DI, and Lestrade by the fact that he was dealing with a 5-year-old-man.

“Apart from the obvious that even your team would've been able to see, the first stab is always the one on the back. Whoever is doing this is most definitely part of the gang. You want to solve the case? We have to go in and leave all your rules behind.”

To say that I disliked the plan is an understatement. I wholeheartedly could see a thousand things going wrong, but Sherlock being himself disregarded them all.

 

_Shutting down. Please connect to a power source to restart the system._

 

John stared at the black monitor. He had been working hours on writing down all his notes for the case and start writing something akin to a structured story.

“Really John? Must you romanticise everything you write?” Sherlock reading over his shoulder startled him, after all this time it was surprising how silent he moved around.

“Piss off Sherlock. It's none of your business.” Said John while looking for his charger within the cluster Sherlock had dropped on his desk.

“I thought you had stopped filling your scrapbook, or your blog. Donovan hasn’t mentioned any more cases” He had his gear on, and John could smell something coming from the kitchen. He was not cleaning whatever experiment Sherlock had at the moment.

“I already told you it's not! It's a case book. I might publish it someday. People like reading about you.”

“Publish it? Just like your blog? Why would you do that? And that case non the less!” John turned to Sherlock exasperated.

“For some reason people just love reading about a mad genius detective in the deer-stalker. Now where did you placed my charger? Have you used it for another of your experiments?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and motioned to his laptop on the counter top. “Mine was too far.”

“One day I’ll just punch you in the face.” Said John as he retrieved his charger and came back to sit at his desk. He wanted to wrap the case as soon as possible.

“What ever you say. Why this case? I hate this case. I told you not to publish the unsolved ones!” Said Sherlock while dropping all his weight on the couch. It was going to be one of a hell sulk. John might as well ignore him. “Don’t ignore me!”

“It’s not unsolved! What is it about this case that you despise so much? It took a while to solve it, but you did it just as most.” The only response he got was Sherlock pulling the afghan over him and ignore John’s question. It was at times like these that John knew not to push him into giving out answers.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**

 

 **Title:** _Entry title_

 

(…) 

It didn’t take us much to get into the gang. Sherlock asked 5 of his network members for their help, they would be following the main subjects and gathering information on specific things Sherlock asked them. As for ourselves, we decided to gain their trust through a disguise and the usage of our skills. I was an underground doctor recommended by Sherlock’s people, and Sherlock gave the information regarding enemies and whatnot.

By the end of the month Sherlock had enough information on the main 5 suspects and was beginning to develop a plan to uncover the true culprit. It is just as Sherlock to leave us in the darkness while he’s plotting and on the move.

Lestrade was the one to quicken the developments. After a month of having practically nothing to go by, and Sherlock not sharing the information regarding the case, he had NSY on his back demanding for results and a full description on the case before it went cold. We needed to finish things as soon as possible. Not only for our sake and safety, but because Lestrade threatened Sherlock on pulling him off the case if things weren’t solved.

Needless to say that he actually managed a break through. It was at this point that he decided to bring us into what was going on in his mind.

As it turned out, in the month we had been working as a branch to the gang, the flow of corpses decreased considerably. Even those with low ranks began to relax, and attributed the attacks to rivals and street fights gone wrong. We gathered that the victims were constantly starting fights, and either drunk or high.

Sherlock pointed this out to Lestrade. The victims were targeted because they were weak points. If they had a background of being either heavy drinkers or frequent junkies, it was likely that they were an easy point to get crucial information. They were liabilities, and they couldn’t afford to lose money over something as stupid as a drunk man talking a bit too much. They had to be taken out in the most efficient way possible.

The plan consisted on tipping off one of the network. They would have to visit me regularly in order to be able to create a solid background. After all, I did try to reduce abstinence syndromes by giving them small dosages of other chemicals. If they bit into the bait, it would be easier to tip off the main cause of the deceased.

We placed all our bets on Wiggins. He was the only one Sherlock had ever given something akin to a basic training on self-defence. It would be easy to put them on his trail if Sherlock just called him out on his drug usage.

“You must understand that under no circumstance the devices will stop working and sending a live feed of everything you say.” I came to Baker Street to find Sherlock and Lestrade in a heated discussion. I couldn’t understand what Lestrade had previously said, but apparently the topic was Wiggins and his safety while they disregarded him. He just sat by the hearth with a bored expression. Even I could deduce that he had given up trying to give any sort of input to the discussion.

“Girls, calm down. Now what on Earth is going on here? You do know that Wiggins is here, right?” They both went silent. Sherlock regarded me with an exasperated look as if asking _can you believe what he just suggested?_

I was certain that Lestrade was trying to get some other plan that didn’t involved placing someone on the line. Everything could go wrong.

“John. Please! Get some sense into his great, thick skull, because he might be a genius, but this plan is far too much. I really have no wish to explain why there’s now a dead civilian involved.” I could see he was almost defeated. I had no input. As far as I knew, this was the best alternative. Sherlock and I were only commodities; he gave them relevant information, and I was a doctor willing to treat them outside a hospital.

“I’m sorry, but I have something to say.” Said Wiggins. I was relieved that he talked for I had nothing to reassure Lestrade. I knew the plan was mad, and dangerous, but he didn’t need to hear it from me. “I know what I’ve gotten myself into,” he continued, “but it is my decision to make.”

This alarmed Lestrade, he immediately tried to make him reconsider. “I think you should really leave it to NSY.”

It was immediately turned down with a negative. Even I couldn’t say anything against what Wiggins said. “I know that the police have trained teams for this, but we are really out of time. It is about now that you need to start doing something rather than see the case being labelled as ‘cold’. I have made my mind in the matter, and I want you to know that I trust you in this.”

There was nothing Lestarde or I could say to make him change his mind. It was after an hour or so that Sherlock came out from his room. I hadn’t noticed his absence until that moment, and I noted just how silence the room had been for a while. He was in jeans, blazer and a blond wig with a hat. He looked nothing like himself. Up to this moment I hadn’t seen his disguise.

“Come on John. It’s time.” 

 

_Internet connexion lost. Please check or restart your server._

 

“Sherlock! What did you do?” Almost screamed John at Sherlock. At least he looked bashful enough about the developments.

“Let’s just say something didn’t went as expected.” Came the answer from the kitchen. He was holding a cable and had a guilty smile. It wasn’t often that John saw such expression, so he tried to calm down before asking what was going on.

“A small experiment gone wrong. Don’t worry; I’ll reconnect it in a moment. Were you doing something important on the Internet? Otherwise you wouldn’t have said anything on the matter.” He said as an answer to John’s query. It was things like this that made him go mad at him.

“I was updating my Blog.”

“Well, too bad. Has it got a name yet? I don’t think you should publish this case. Maybe Mycroft will bring it down anyways.” Now John knew the problem had been no accident at all.

“If you really don’t want the case to be published, just say it. I know you did it on purpose.” Said John as calm and sincere as he could for Sherlock to realise that he wouldn’t do something against his will. It took him a moment to answer.

“No, it’s fine. People should know that while I can help them solve their problems, it is you who they need to save their lives.” He gave John a small, fleeting smile, and left the kitchen. “It’ll be back up by tomorrow morning!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets kidnapped. BAMF! John rescues him.

**The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**

 

 **Title:** _Entry title_

 

(…)

 

It was that very night that Sherlock began to move. He called the remaining 4 members of his network that were in, and sold the information as crucial. As expected, they had someone stalk Wiggins’ every move. Everything was going as planned. Or so we thought.

Three days later, I was on my way to Baker Street with groceries when I noticed a man following me. I took my usual path and hurried back. In my haste, 2 messages went unnoticed on my mobile. Hurrying up the stairs and into the kitchen, I just dropped the bags and pulled my phone.

The first message was from Mycroft, it simply read “What have you gotten yourselves into this time?”

The second was from Sherlock’s network, and it was the most worrying thing I read that day. “They know, and are after you.”

I ran up to my room to grab my gun while calling Sherlock’s mobile. It was obvious he had gotten the same messages, but I still needed to know where he was. It is after all part of his nature to get in trouble and go head first into it rather than wait for someone. He always has a plan; I’m just not fond of being left in the dark for long.

As soon as the tone came, the voicemail engaged, and I just knew he had gone to face the gang on his own. The thing is I had my weapon while he had nothing. I hung up and went to catch a cab while texting Mycroft to see if he had any information on his brother. He decided a call was in order, and demanded the details of the case. It is unusual of Sherlock to get involved into something for a little over a month. He was beginning to worry that in his haste to wrap up the case, he’d get careless.

He sent NSY on his way to meet us. We all feared that he had been kidnapped and kept unconscious, as he wasn’t even answering to messages. For me, it was the longest 40 minutes ride in the back of a cab. What reassured me a bit was that Lestrade was on his way to meet us, and that it was likely Mycroft would send some sort of aid.

The cab stopped a few blocks before. I couldn’t be seen, although it was a possibility that they were expecting me. My first thought had been to check their main meeting point, but halfway there, Mycroft sent me to an abandoned building. Experience told me that if he were being kept captive, he would be in the basement.

I made my way through a broken window, and treaded lightly through the corridor looking into the other rooms. I could hear voices coming from upstairs, and tried to do my inspection as swift and efficient as possible.

With my gun in hand, I tried all the doors before me. I was nearing the end of the hall when someone made his way down when I heard the heavy boots approach. I hid under the stairs and waited for whoever it was. It was unlikely, but not improbable, that if I followed him, I’d find Sherlock. To say I was relieved when I recognised him as one of the homeless would be an understatement.

When he saw me, he signed me to be quiet; it was likely that they were expecting him to be fast on his errand for something. He pointed me the way to where Sherlock was, turns out he had been taken, and I sent him on his way back with the instruction to get Wiggins and the other 3 out of the building. Lestrade shouldn’t be that far away, he knew who they were.

I had to bring down the door in order to get to Sherlock, the racket it made was what got the gang tripping on their way down the stairs with withdrawn weapons. The image of Sherlock beaten and passed out on the ground was what kept me on the move. Hauling his arm by the back of my neck in order to support his deadweight and still have the chance to move around. I moved to one of the rooms by the stairs in order to have time to get on the move once they passed me.

Too bad I broke the door, otherwise I’d be able to lock them and wait for the police to arrive.

I planned on going out through the same room I got in, but with Sherlock it would be twice as hard. Thinking strategically, and with what I heard, only 2 had made it down the stairs and were now registering the rooms. Someone had to be guarding the stairs, but shooting that person would alert the others and I’d be trapped. So I decided to knock out the two who were inspecting the rooms.

The first one was easy. He went straight into the room, and I hit him on the back of the head with the gun. The other one was alerted of my presence by the sound, to be honest, he did give a fight. It was until he was on the ground that I noticed I was bleeding, Sherlock was just waking up, and the one on the top of the stairs decided to barge into the room.

Several things happened at once. A gun went of, Sherlock screamed as if in pain, and without hesitation I shot down the man with the gun even though we were cornered and outnumbered. “Don’t even think about moving a muscle.”

We were at a Mexican standoff. I was ready to engage them all if needed. I had never been so happy to hear the words “Police! Don’t move!” They tried to run but were immediately intercepted. I saw Lestrade’s worried expression while he approached us and asked for an ambulance.

It took us 2 days to be able to return to Baker Street. Mycroft had ordered the doctors not to let Sherlock on the loose until they were sure no infection would come to his gunshot wound in the leg. It is hard to keep Sherlock in a single place without breaking havoc on a regular day, now imagine how things went with him on light pain meds just because they couldn’t give thing anything stronger. It was hellish, and I wasn’t cleared to live the hospital just to be by his side.

 

_**Publish document** _

“Really John? Must to romanticise everything? You even left out that the man you shot down was the murderer with a background of petty thefts, and a military record.” John jumped at hearing Sherlock so close. To be specific, screaming over his shoulder.

“You are going to be the end of me.” Said John frowning and rubbing his eyes.

“Oh please! Don’t be so dramatic. You love living with me or you would’ve gone out the window after the first couple of days.” He was smirking knowingly; John could do nothing but shake his head. He was unbelievable, and right. As always.

“You’re a bloody bastard.”

“And yet you are still living here with me. So either you’re as mad as me, or I’m a delight to live with.”

“Oy! Don’t give yourself that much credit.” They were both smiling now.

“Won’t it have a name? How about ‘The fall of a gang’?”

“I don’t know.”

“’Murder is easy’?”

“Most definitely not.”

“’The end of a chain’? No, forget it. Not even I like it.”

“How about, ‘The adventure of the dead thugs’?”

“Hm, could be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's a wrap! Thank you all for reading it even though it was a bit boring at the beginning. Cheers!


End file.
